The Hunger Games: Nightlock
by CynderPikachu
Summary: The second book in CynderPikachu's Hunger Games Fanfiction, this novel tells the tale of thirteen-year-old Gardenia Bartini, an escaped tribute from the 100th Hunger Games. On the run with her ally, Myrae Strait, Gardenia must survive all the odds to get back to her home alive. DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen or the Mockingjay Pin.
1. Chapter 1

1

By the time prey shows up, my fingers feel frozen to my bow. When I see the beaver in the stream, I take an arrow from the quiver at my waist, one of two, and fit it to the bowstring. Drawing it back, I aim for the eye. I have gotten much better at hunting since I escaped the arena. The leaf-bladed arrow spears through one dark brown eye and out the other as I release it, killing the beaver instantly. I scramble down my tree, brushing my dark hair out of my eyes as I descend, and pick it up. I remove the arrow and slip it back into the quiver. I only have around fifty, and if we hope to make it home I'll need every one. I take the beaver and rush to our camp a few minutes away, where Myrae is waiting. She looks up.

"Hiya, District Eleven. Shot something, I see. I got a few plants for us." She flicks her straight brown hair over her shoulder and holds out what she has collected. I examine them. There's a species of wild chives, a lot of dandelions and some fruits. The chives, dandelions and most of the fruits are okay, but I spot some berries I know to be poisonous mixed in. I weed them out and throw them aside, returning the collection to her.

"This'll do, Myrae. I'll prepare the meat."

I take my beaver to the centre of the clearing, where we have stayed for a few days. There's a cover of woven grasses over a circle of stones, which is filled with dry sticks. On either side of the circle there's a Y-shaped branch, which holds the arrow I spear through the meat I've shot and stops the arrow from burning. I take the cover and soak it in the stream, then return to the camp, shake it mostly dry and set a fire. Once the fire's lit, I place the cover back over to disperse the smoke. While it crackles, I use my knife to skin the beaver, cutting off the tail and head. I wrap the skin up and place it in a sack, which holds an assortment of other pelts. When we have enough, I'll use the needle I have left over from the Games to stitch them together. I know how to because my family's profession in the Flower Trail was sewing. Thinking of home makes me sad, because even if we could reach it, it'd be impossible to get in, since the fence is electrified, there's barbed wire at the top and it's bolted into the ground. It's also ten metres tall. Instead, we're travelling to the rebuilt District Twelve, Myrae's home. She says she knows a family nearby her home who resemble me a bit, with dark skin, brown eyes and black hair, who I could blend in with. She's hoping to return to her own house but it's near impossible, as she'll be recognised. She'll probably have to go to another person's house.

I take an arrow and spear it through the beaver meat, then place it on the Y-shaped sticks, covering the fire again

Meanwhile, Myrae is separating the roots from the dandelions and peeling the fruit. I walk over and take out the large bowl made from half a coconut we used in the arena. We used to have two, but one broke. I help Myrae cut up the fruit and make a salad of sorts for us to eat. Soon, a mouth-watering scent fills the clearing, signalling that the beaver is cooked. I take it off the fire, pull out the arrow and cut it up, stripping out the bones. I'm proficient at this, having had lots of practice. I drop the sliced up chunks into the bowls, saving one and taking a bite. The taste of the meat fills my mouth. Even here, in the wilderness around District Seven, I am eating better than I ate at home. I finish off my fragment and mix the meat through the sort-of-salad. Myrae and I take turns fishing handfuls from the bowl. Once we're done she takes the bowl to the stream to clean it out. Food poisoning is the last thing we need.

I place my pack under my head and lay back on it. I let the sleep come.

My dreams, as always, are of the arena. Flashes echo. Alexei's death, my almost drowning in Myrae's crazy idea of fun, Myrae being knocked out by Agata, myself spinning my sling while Agata taunts. Just before I let it go, though, her hair suddenly shoots backwards and becomes short like a boy's her eyes slant and her skin darkens. I am scared and I leap for a tree. She follows, and I am up high, she a few metres below me. Myrae's unconscious form blurs, and vanishes altogether. There's a strange robotic thrum in time with my heartbeat. The stone I had been about to sling at what had been Agata slips, and mid fall the grey shape elongates into a silver fruit knife. And instantly I know what's happening.

Agata is no longer Agata, but my brother Ash. The stone-slash-fruit knife impales his hand and he plummets. A sharp crack reaches my ears. I cry out and climb as fast as I can down the tree, splinters lacerating my hands and branches whipping my face. I jump the last two metres and land on my feet, twisting an ankle. I stumble to his limp form. His breathing is infrequent, shallow and rattly. The Peacekeepers come, and I scream, high and loud, as they wrench his body away from me. I race after them, slipping away from the hands that tear at me. One person snags my thin green coat, so I wrench my arms out of it and keep running. The Peacekeepers run towards the Train Station. My heart sinks. It's too serious to be treated here. They climb onboard and I throw myself forward. A Peacekeeper lifts his gloved hand and I slam into it and I am thrown back. The door closes and slowly approaches the sensors. I jump, looking for a handhold, but I slip off. The train clears the sensors and zooms away.

My dreams fade into turmoil, a raging ocean of memories and fears. Agata wielding her knife, Myrae struck by the blade of the axe, not the flat, Boris catching us and snapping our necks like brittle twigs, every terror from the arena haunts me.

When I wake up, the sun is shining brightly through the trees. After my dream, I have an idea on how to get into District Twelve. I explain my idea.

"Hmm…" Myrae replies, "You may be onto something. I just hope that it has a low fence."


	2. Chapter 2

2

We pack up our camp, spending an hour covering our tracks. We scatter the circle of stones, send the charred wood from our fire down the stream, spread the ashes and cover them with leaves and twigs and strap the fire cover to Myrae's back using a vine. We then leave our camp, heading towards District Seven. It takes us three hours to find a spot. There's twenty metres between here and the two-and-a-half metre fence. That area is grassy and soil. We have to be quick.

"Right. I have an idea. Just do what I do, okay?"

She unclips her bamboo pole and, hefting it like a spear, begins running for the fence. When she's but half a metre away from the electrified structure, she jams the staff into the ground and uses it to lift herself over the fence. I know this technique. I saw it in the Games a few years ago. The District Nine tribute was cornered, so instead of running away, she took her spear and, holding it upside down, ran towards her attackers. They were startled and she jammed it into the ground like Myrae is doing now. She flipped over them and, using the spear shaft to steady her landing, ran off. She later won the Games.

Myrae uses the staff to land steadily. She turns and hurls the staff like a javelin at me. Then she runs into the cover of the lumber trees. The staff lands beside me, and I gingerly pick it up and run forwards. I thrust it into the ground and lift myself over the fence just like Myrae did. Unlike Myrae, though, I do a complete front flip and land on my face and my ankle on the ground, which takes a lot of skill. Myrae snorts as I hop up, retrieve the bamboo pole from a few metres away where I lost it and join her in the trees. We run towards the Train Station, avoiding the logging equipment out here. Lucky it's still early, or District Seven would be up and cutting down trees like matchsticks. Come to think of it, this is probably where all our matchsticks come from.

"Right. I'll check the schedule," I tell Myrae when we reach the District Seven Train Station. I leave all my weapons but one concealed knife and arrange my hair so that it covers my face. I walk in. It must be our lucky day, because not only am I unrecognised despite my filthy attire, in half an hour a train is travelling to District Twelve transferring Peacekeepers. I feel a pang of longing as I notice that a train is leaving for District Eleven in two hours to collect a Capitol official and him men, but we'll never get in. The security is too tight.

I rush back to Myrae.

"There's a train leaving for Twelve in half an hour," I tell her. She smiles.

"We're so close. Here's how we'll get on the train…"

We plan for around twenty-five minutes, until a female voice announces that the train is about to depart. A flock of white-clad Peacekeepers crowd onto the platform and board the train. Just as the door closes, Myrae and I rush forwards. As one, we vault onto the roof; her using the staff, while I use her spear. We have the luck to land on the roof just as the docking clamps snap open, masking the sound of our impact with a metallic clank. I pull the blade of the spear from the dirt and click it back onto Myrae's sash with the studs. It clicks into place.

"We did it!" I cheer quietly.

"We're not in yet," she reminds me. We shimmy along the roof until we find an unoccupied compartment. Pulling my knife, I slide it under the skylight. It pops open and Myrae and I drop inside. Before she jumps, Myrae positions the glass so that it will slam shut when she lets go. She drops and lands catlike on the balls of her feet. We scramble under a bench and pull down the tablecloth. Just in time too, because the train passes through the scanner and rockets forwards. I smile. We're on our way.


	3. Chapter 3

3

I look at our surroundings. Judging by the sun shining through the skylight, it's about midday. That means that the Avoxes will be serving lunch soon. Just as I think this, a group of Avoxes led by two young girls walk past. They are certainly siblings. The younger of the two is holding a metal, ice-filled bucket of wine, while the older is carrying a tray of food, like many behind her. I gasp as I realise that I know these Avoxes. The front two, at any rate.

It's Prue and Taegan.

Their heads automatically swivel towards us at the noise. They look forwards again. They walk into the next compartment with the rest of the Avoxes. A few minutes later they return alone. Prue cautiously lifts the tablecloth. Myrae pulls her knife, and I am shocked by the idea that she would even think, however fleetingly, of hurting any Avox. They look at me, and I realise that I am filthy and that they can't see my face through my hair. I reach to my neck and lift my mockingjay necklace, showing it to Prue and Taegan. Their mouths drops open and I can see the space where these children's' tongues should be. I can't help but throw up, narrowly missing Prue's shoes. How could the Capitol maim such young girls? Fifteen years old and twelve years- no, Taegan's thirteen years old now. I missed her birthday.

"What's going on?" hisses Myrae from behind me.

Suddenly the compartment door opens. I throw myself back under the bench. A Peacekeeper looks down his nose at the remnants of my last meal on the ground.

"And what happened here?" he asks Prue. She pulls a pad of paper from her uniform pocket along with a pen. She writes something on it and hands the pad to him. He reads it and throws it aside. Taegan scuttles to pick it up and the Peacekeeper kicks her. She makes a strange squawk noise as he laughs and walks away. Prue retrieves her pad and pen and, smiling mischievously, holds it up.

_My sister gets motion sick, sir, _it reads. I grin. She's quick thinking. She gestures for us to come out from under the bench.

"Gardenia?" hisses Myrae. It's only the second time she's called me by name. "Who the heck are they?"

"They're my friends from back home," I answer. "Prue, Taegan, as you know, this is Myrae. Myrae, Prue and Taegan." I point to each girl in turn. Prue beckons for us to follow her. We crawl from under the bench and creep after her. She leads us into the last carriage, the Avox quarters. Using a strange sign language I do not know, she introduces us to them. Then they each come forward in turn and write their names on paper. Ten of them, plus Prue and Taegan. There's Fletcher, Sabine, Artemis, Kyra, Rain, Levi, Amelia, Ruby, Foxy, Drew and Byrne. Prue uses the sign language to explain what must be done to the other Avoxes. They nod, and Foxy takes me by the arm and leads me to the second last carriage, where a vast bath and a huge cabinet go. Foxy carefully locks the door. Obviously, we're not meant to be in here. She fills the tub and gestures for us to hop in, and Myrae instructs her to turn the other way while we undress. When we get in the bath, I realise how grimy we are when the water practically turns brown the second I submerge myself. I wash myself clean and paddle around a bit. I bath in the opposite corner to Myrae. Once I'm done, I tell Myrae to look away while I get out of the tub. The Avox Foxy has taken our filthy arena clothes and replaced them with Avox uniforms. She's left our packs, belts and Myrae's sash though. They're vital for weapon carrying. Once I'm done dressing in the sleek, shiny grey-and-red ribbed jumpsuit that is the Avox uniform, I look away while Myrae dresses. We put on the grey socks and shiny grey trainers that were left for us. Three Avoxes then enter. Fletcher, Sabine and Byrne. Byrne takes our belts, packs and Myrae's sash and places them in the sink. He removes the contents of the packs and begins to wash the dirt from our weapons and bags. Fletcher walks towards me, while Sabine advances on Myrae. We sit down. Sabine instantly decides to do something about Myrae's hair. She grabs a comb and begins tearing it through Myrae's tangled hair. Fletcher regards me, then goes to the enormous cupboard and takes out a box of powder. He dips a brush he took from a drawer in it, and then lightly covers my face with it, my hands, my ankles, my neck; every visible patch of skin is covered in it. Then Fletcher and Sabine swap. The two Avoxes look at us. Sabine retrieves a pair of scissors to go with her comb. Fletcher crosses once again to the vast cupboard and takes out a spray can. It reads _Insta-tan. _He's grinning and so am I. This will be funny. Myrae blanches as she realises what he's doing. Sabine begins yanking the knots out of my wild black hair and I wince with each tug. After about half an hour my hair is sleek once again. She takes the scissors and cuts my waist-length hair to just past my shoulders, then does it in a tight bun. She puts on a bit of what I think is called mascara to make my eyelashes look longer. I am impressed with her attention to detail. My fringe is off my face and also tied in the bun on the back of my head. Then Sabine and Fletcher make us brush our teeth. Lord, how dirty nine months on the run made our teeth. It's disgusting and it takes us a good half-hour to get them back to normal, by which point my gums are bleeding. I realise how clean I feel. I'd forgotten what it felt like.

Finally, Sabine takes a small bottle of something from the cupboard and puts a few drops in my eye. I wince, because it stings a little. I walk to the mirror and am floored by how different I look. My hair, which was always long and free-roaming, is rather short and pulled back in a tight bun. My skin is pale. And one eye, the one Sabine put the drops in, is hazel. I realise what she's done.

When I was young, I had a friend named Conwey. He had a condition, something with his eyes. I pull the fact from the back of my mind. _Heterochromia, _a voice says. Sabine has made it look like I have heterochromia. It's a condition that makes your eyes different colours because of a lack of something or other in your iris. Sabine puts a few drops in both of Myrae's eyes. Because she has grey eyes, not brown, it turns them green.

The Avoxes have outdone themselves.


End file.
